


14.

by acertaindefenseattorney



Category: Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Abuse, Gavincest, Incest, M/M, Rape, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-28
Updated: 2012-06-28
Packaged: 2017-11-08 19:14:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/446548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acertaindefenseattorney/pseuds/acertaindefenseattorney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rape.</p><p>It took years to connect the word to the experience. </p><p>- Response to kink meme prompt I've had my eye on for a while, 'can I please, please, please have some abusive gavincest which treats the abuse realistically, staying away from both soap opera dramatics AND porn'. Right up my street. TW for non-violent rape, confusion in the face of society's conflicting and oftentimes idiotic ideas of <i>what rape is</i>. I tried to keep away from graphic description, just enough detail to give an idea of the dynamic, rather than to titillate. Not sure if I succeeded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	14.

Rape.

It took years to connect the word to the experience. Klavier had studied law, of course. But he had also lived, in the real world, as a real person. In the real world, beyond the courts, rape was violence. Rape was back-alleys and empty parking lots. Drunken stepfathers, even husbands, but always drenched in violence. Always the threat, _it’s this or else ..._

It took years to connect. 

The event had been an embarrassing secret for seven years before it did - not Wright’s seven, but his own, offset by three prior. It had been a ‘moment’. Mutual. A moment which must never leave his home, must never pass the doors of their elegant townhouse except of course

it always did. It went everywhere with him. To university as a child prodigy, to band practice, to court, around the world.

Secrets will do that.

It had not been rape. And even after he made the connection, after the seven year _click_ , he would find himself doubting. Going back over it, over and over and over it, _was_ it rape? Was it rape, but not force? Was that possible

the law made everything complex. He had known he would never press charges, never bring it out into the open. The law understood what rape was but judges, all too frequently, did not. He’d seen it, watching trials as a kid, studying his books: the law said statutory, said _a position of authority over a minor_ , but judges.

Judges wanted things simple. Did they say, verbally, _no._ Did they struggle. Did they scream. Did their bodies respond.

And this was his case: 

Fourteen. Studying math, his weakest subject, ready for the exams he would have to take to enter university early. Straight ‘A’s, in everything but that one. He had never been good with numbers. Irrelevant, but--

His brother had given him wine. Just a little, at dinner, a treat he said. This was not unusual. Klavier had thought it over. Did it mean that he had been planning it? He didn’t think so.  

And then he had climbed onto his bed. Much later, when he was asleep. It was not dramatic. Very simple, really, from the outside; he had smelled of soap. He had pressed his palm over his mouth and made a gesture as if to kiss him, and then moved it away, and done just that. It was not frenzied, or rushed. It was the opposite of physical violence.

He had promised to make it good. He had said, it’s ok. Everyone does it. Klavier, 14, had tried so hard to relax, had let him. 

He had closed his lips around him, and at 14, he couldn’t react any other way but to come, horrified, gasping. How could he have done anything else?

Kristoph's hand over his mouth again, as he entered him, smelling like soap. He didn’t take as much care with that, but no less than Klavier’s first male lover, no less than Daryan Crescend ever would. 

14\. Klavier wasn’t sure how he had responded. Here it was a blur. He was watching his brother’s face. That was all. And he could feel him, but from far away. His face was red and he watched it closely, detached, until it dropped against his shoulder, and he thought about the strange way his kisses felt against his throat. He had seen girls _melt_ for that on film, but again it felt distant, not much more than wet, layered over and through pain and confusion and exhaustion. 

And Kristoph was done. What happened when he was done? He might have told him he was a good boy, and touched his arm, his face, but Klavier thought that was a cliche, maybe something he’d seen in a film and transposed onto memory. He might have cried beside him on the bed, the mattress might have shaken, he might have buried his wet face against his side, maybe he had apologised between gasps for breath, but that seemed like wishful thinking.

Perhaps, more likely, he had left.

And Klavier had lain there, not scared or crying or contemplating suicide, but sticky, and tired above everything else. He had not cried until he was in the shower and he thought the word _incest_ , and realised that he had done something very, very illegal, and then he had only scrubbed harder.

It _was_ rape. Klavier knew. He made himself know, and one day he would confide in Apollo, and he would make an ‘o’ of his lips and say yes, of course it was, there was no question about it and he was sure he could convince a jury of that but –

but he wouldn’t. Nein. He had taken so much convincing himself, he would say, Herr Forehead, I can’t convince somebody else. More likely they would convince me, and I’m only just. I’m only just.

And that was that. 


End file.
